Chapter Forty-One
Josie felt stir-crazy. At least at her own home, she’d had plenty of work to keep her busy, even if she had to accept the fact that she was being shadowed by members of the CPD.
She paced Zach’s bedroom, looking out the window now and again to watch for his truck pulling up to the curb outside his apartment building.
It was after four o’clock, and he’d left early that morning.
Where was he, and why hadn’t he called her?
She hated feeling caged. She rubbed her hands over her bare arms, trying to push away the resentment at Zach for leaving her there, trapped in a single room.
He was working. He was trying to solve a case not just for her, but for the other women Cooper…
Charles had murdered, including her own mother.
Zach was out slaying dragons, and she was bitter about it. She felt ashamed of herself.
And truthfully, her own desire to be alone was trapping her. She could go out to the living room where the other two officers were. She could chitchat with them, watch TV, whatever it was they were doing. She just didn’t want to.
Josie sank down onto the edge of Zach’s bed, putting her hands over her face. It felt like there was a balloon in her chest, slowly expanding so that it would eventually burst, blowing her to smithereens.
She heaved out a breath, picking up the remote and turning the TV on.
She settled on a cooking show and was able to zone out for half an hour as the chef went through the steps of preparing chicken marsala.
When a commercial came on, she flipped around for a few minutes, pausing when she heard Zach’s name.
Josie sat up straighter, watching as Zach exited a restaurant—what looked like a small sandwich shop—his arm around a pretty, flaxen blond as he attempted to shield her face from the cameras, tucking her against him and dodging the questions that reporters threw at him.
Josie’s heart stalled at the obvious intimacy between Zach Copeland and the unknown blond woman, old feelings of betrayal and inadequacy rushing to the forefront of her heart and mind and causing a whooshing in her brain.
She heard the front door open and clicked the TV off quickly, standing and wiping her shaking hands down her hips as she listened to Zach greet the other two officers. Obviously, whatever she’d seen on the news had been from earlier.
The bedroom door opened, and Zach came in, a strange look on his face that made her muscles tense. But then he smiled at her, even if his smile was a little sad.
“Where have you been?” she asked, and cringed at the accusatory tone in her voice.
Josie had the sudden urge to turn away, hide her face.
She felt a scream rising up inside of her, a screeching wail that had been building since the day before.
Zach had helped her release some of it the previous night, but it was gaining ground again, demanding to be heard.
“Working.”
“I saw you on the news,” she said, lacing her hands in front of her. “Coming out of a restaurant.”
Zach removed his gun and holster and set them on top of his dresser and then turned to her.
“Yeah. I grabbed a sandwich with my sister while we were waiting for some information to come in. I don’t even know how reporters were there.
Maybe someone recognized me and called them.
This case has gotten big. Every reporter in Cincinnati is vying for a headline. ”
His sister. “Your sister?” she whispered. “She…she doesn’t look anything like you.”
A small smile turned up his beautiful lips. And now that the haze of jealousy had cleared, and she was really looking at him, he appeared so tired. Defeated almost. “I’m adopted.”
“Oh.” She frowned, thinking back to the things he’d told her about his family. “You didn’t mention it.”
“I forget sometimes.” He scrubbed at his face. “Josie…”
Her breath caught as realization hit. Something’s wrong. “What is it?” The internal scream amplified.
He walked to her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and guiding her to the edge of the bed where he lowered her gently, and then sat down next to her. She stared at him, her heart beating triple time. “Josie,” he started again and then stopped.
“Tell me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Just tell me, Zach.”
He met her gaze, those midnight eyes that spoke of goodness, safety, a life she’d only ever imagined. “We found your son.”
Her heart dropped like a boulder as a strangled cry emerged from her lips. She grasped at Zach’s shirt. “Where? Where is he?”
He raised his hands and covered hers, holding her fists against him. “He lives in Kentucky. He lives right across the bridge, Josie. Fifteen minutes from here.”
Hot tears were flowing like a river down her cheeks as she tried to continue breathing, tried to control the quaking that had taken over her body. “Is he okay? He’s healthy? He’s okay?”
“Yes. He’s fine. He’s perfect. He’s an ordinary eight-year-old boy.”
Josie tipped forward, her head hitting Zach’s chest as she sobbed, still fisting the material of Zach’s shirt, holding on for dear life. My boy. My boy. He’s safe. He’s alive.
When she’d managed to catch her breath, she turned her head so Zach could hear her question. “Who has him?”
He used his hands, still held over Josie’s fists to gently push her backward, so he could look into her eyes.
In his expression, she saw heartbreak, empathy, and conflict.
He was struggling. He told her about the social worker they’d met with the day before, Janelle Gilbert, and about her attorney sister.
He told her how Cooper…Charles had taken a tiny infant to her and asked for her help.
He told her about the couple who’d adopted her child while she lay bleeding and devastated in a hospital less than half an hour away.
“They thought it was a legitimate adoption, Josie,” he told her, his voice husky with sadness.
He let go of her fisted hands, smoothing her hair back from her face. “They didn’t know.”